Us vs Everyone
by postcard.love
Summary: Bella and Jasper were close when Bella lived with Renee and Renee's abusive husband. When tragedy struck, they moved to Forks, meeting the Cullens for the first time. Prequel to future story. Everyone's the same 'species' as in Twilight. B/J
1. Intro

"_Live life to its fullest. Don't be afraid to enjoy what you have, and don't worry if it doesn't last forever. Just be thankful for the experience."_

**ABOUT TWO YEARS AGO:**

I was a freshman in high school. My mom, Renée, and I moved to Cordova, a small fishing town in Alaska. It was a place where everybody worked on the ocean, by the ocean, or with the ocean. It rained nearly every day. My mom and I were the weirdo outsiders; city folk from sunny Phoenix. We packed up and moved to Alaska when my mom fell in love with this guy Doug that she met on E-Harmony.

I was not happy about the change in location. I love sun, heat, and big cities-- everything Cordova isn't. The town didn't even have its own hospital, and the freshman class was only about 30 people. But I conceded to move with my mom-- and yes, I did have a choice. If I had asked her to stay, she would have, no questions asked. But I didn't, because I wanted her to be happy, more than I wanted anything else.

I was painfully shy, so at least I didn't have any close friends I was leaving behind. There was certainly no boyfriend to worry about. My mom _was _my close friend.

***

Doug lived in a two-story maroon house, up a steep hill and secluded by pine trees. If I were to walk to the end of the driveway, stumble, and fall, I would roll down the main residential area in town, past the downtown area (a market, a gas station, a library, a fishing supply store, and a cheap motel. Who vacationed here? It's a mystery to me, too.), down the bay, off the pier, and straight into the Pacific Ocean. I was so clumsy that the threat was very real.

Doug's house had a couple kayaks upside-down, tipped against the side of the house. I use the term 'lawn' loosely-- it was all gravel, with spiky weeds sprouting from under the tiny front porch. The sides of the house were faded gray from the mounds of salty snow that eroded paint for more than half the year.

I climbed out of the car, exhausted from a very long trip. The flight from Phoenix to Anchorage was about five and a half hours, and then about an hour to fly from Anchorage to Cordova. I grabbed my backpack out of the backseat of Renée's new-to-her car, but I stabbed myself with one of my many band pins and shrieked, dropping it in a puddle accidentally.

'_Good going, Bella. This is a fantastic start. If you just fried your iPod, there's nowhere for you to get a new one. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.' _

I picked the backpack up and shook it a little to get excess water off. Then I grabbed my two suitcases from the trunk, and clambered up the front steps carrying everything I owned.

Doug leered at me as I practically ran up the stairs. I had never met him- never even spoke to him- until about fifteen minutes ago. And so far, I had a bad feeling. From the overly-friendly hug, to the peek down my _Hit the Lights _tee, and now the leer… I just have a bad feeling.

My new bedroom was about two cubic feet. There was room for a twin-sized bed pushed up in a corner, and I had a miniscule closet with a dresser inside it. A desk was cramped in the practically-nonexistent extra space. The walls were painted blood-red and the bed had a black comforter.

I threw my suitcases on the bed and got to work unpacking. My books and iPod dock got put on the shelf of my desk, and my laptop sat on the table. I had to sell a lot of stuff before moving, so I only had a few books, including my prized Jane Austen compilation. I had to get rid of all my CDs.

Sweatshirts, and my one dress, got hung on hangers, and then I threw socks and underwear into the top drawer of my dresser, then tee shirts into the drawer below it. I had an impressive collection of tees labeled with pop-punk, emo, and 'alternative' bands from all the concerts I had been to. The third drawer was for jeans, mostly skinny jeans, and the bottom drawer was for treasures.

I hid my photo album that housed pictures of my parents' wedding, my dad's home in Washington, a row of my school pictures, and my old home in Phoenix. I also stashed an antique necklace that had been passed through my family since the 1800s, my bag of concert ticket stubs, my stuffed puppy named Spork, and a small tin that held a wad of money that was my life's savings-- about $500.

The last step was to unpack my backpack. My iPod and headphones got placed in the top-left desk drawer, and I unpacked my toiletries bag-- shampoo, conditioner, brush, flatiron. Lotion, face wash, body wash, deodorant. Toothbrush, toothpaste, eyeliner, mascara. And thus completes the list of all my possessions.

***

Doug didn't get any less creepy as the month passed. He still flashed me the occasional look that I didn't try to fathom. However, he had thoroughly charmed Renée, and they were married before the beginning of the school year. The wedding was out on the pier by the ocean, and consisted of me, Renée, Doug, a justice of the peace, and two witnesses that Doug had met at work.

The honeymoon was over as soon as we got out of the car at home. Doug immediately grabbed a beer-- his first drink since Renée and I moved in-- and didn't stop drinking all night. He was a creepy, harmless drunk. Or so I thought.

A few weeks later, I was packing my backpack, getting ready for my first day of school tomorrow. All the people in town were familiar with Renée and I by then, but I had refrained from having much interaction with anybody, so I was headed into Cordova Junior/Senior High as blind as if it was my first day in town.

Just as I was about to get ready for bed, I heard my mom yelp a little. I ran to the top of the stairs, calling down,

"Mom!! Are you okay?"

"Ye-es, Bella. Go ba-ack to bed," She choked out. I ignored her and dashed down the stairs, catching my foot a little and tripping. I caught myself on the wall and went to the living room, where Doug was chugging the last half of his beer, and my mom was sitting silently on the couch, her face streaked with tears.

She had her hand over her face, but I could see the shadow of a bruise forming in the corner of her eye.

"You bastard! What did you do to my mother?!" I yelled from across the room.

Doug loped over to me and slapped me, hard, across the side of my face.

"Didn't that whore ever tell you not to talk back?" he slurred. I could feel my eyes pricking with tears from the shock and discomfort, but before they could fall, he hit me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. He told me to go to my room, and I did, reluctantly, after my mom begged me to listen.

I didn't sleep at all that night, just sat in front of my door until Renée crawled upstairs around 2:00, then I pulled it open so she could share my sanctuary. I resumed my place in front of the door, and she laid down with her head in my lap, her tears sliding onto my jeans until she fell asleep.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note—This is a continued flashback of Bella's life two years before the beginning of the story. It will continue until I think I have thoroughly explained the backstory. I will most definitely make it clear when we are back to present day.

**PS- I love my readers. I wanna make that soooo clear. Thank you guys; it honestly warmed my heart every time I get a review. **

**PPS- I posted pictures of Bella and Jasper on my profile—MY versions of them. The versions I'm visualizing for this story. Check 'em out! Jasper's sexilicious, of course.**

PPPS- I know I write with a lot of details. I describe or explain pointless tidbits. Let me know If you like it, or if I should focus on dialog.

"_Expect nothing, live frugally on surprise." – Alice Walker_

I finally managed to close my eyes and drift into the lightest of doses. Renee was still asleep, with her head resting on my legs, and my sweatshirt draped over her shoulders.

People had always commented that _I_ was the one raising _her, _but I had never known what they'd meant until now. It wasn't right for a fifteen-year-old girl to have to put aside her wants and needs in order to protect her mother. Logically, I knew this, but emotionally, I knew I wouldn't be able to respect myself if I didn't do everything in my power to keep Renee safe and happy.

I heard my alarm buzz, loud and unrelenting, from my desk. I groaned, but it sounded more like a sob. Shifting Renee to the floor, I quickly stopped the buzzing before Doug came to 'help'. Renee sleepily crawled onto my bed, then passed out again.

I grabbed a new set of clothes, with my favorite 'Taking Back Sunday' tee for good luck, and my bag of toiletries. I dashed to the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible, took a three-minute shower in lukewarm water (it didn't get any warmer than that without at least ten minutes to warm up) and towel-dried my long, brown hair. Getting dressed quickly, I brushed my teeth, while examining the fresh bruise on my cheek. It wasn't too bad—I'd gotten worse from falling down stairs. I was a master at makeup tricks.

The longest part of my routine was my eyes—They were big and brown and fairly pretty, but painfully average. I traced a sweeping line of blue liquid-liner on my top lid, with black smudged on bottom. I finished with black mascara, and looked at the finished product.

It looked pretty good—the bruise didn't show at all, and the makeup covered the dark circles under my eyes.

***

I felt guilty for leaving Renee to go to school, but I had to—it would be important to keep up appearances that everything was fine. I woke her up before I left, to make sure she would be able to function.

I hoped she didn't have a concussion—if she did, I should have kept her awake, shouldn't I!?

I had never dealt with this kind of thing before. She looked okay, except for a nasty black eye.

"Bella, honey, thank you. I'm fine—Doug didn't mean anything by it, he just was a little upset. It was my fault, I started it. We'll all be okay now, right?" she said with this naïve, hopeful smile. I couldn't bring myself to nod. I knew it wouldn't be a one-time thing, and my self-protection warred with my need to comfort Renee. Renee won.

"Yeah, mom, everything will be okay, I'm sure."

She nodded, reassured, like my confirmation cleared everything up. Like saying everything's ok made it true. I worried for my loving, naïve, scatterbrained mother. I don't see how she ever survived before I was born.

I didn't have a ride, or even an umbrella, so my jacket was drenched by the time I got to my school. It was only about a ten-minute walk, and it would have been a lot faster if I didn't keep slipping and falling on my ass. My clothes were damp, my jacket dripped on my soaking converse, and my hair echoed my mood—flat, dripping, dark and heavy. By some miracle, the fabric of my backpack repelled water, so thank everything, all my stuff was intact.

It wasn't too hard to find the front office in a school that small. I walked in the front door and was already spitting-distance from the secretary. Not that I wanted to spit on the secretary... She was in the principle's office, but her desk was behind a little glass window so she could observe the halls, or assist lost, dripping new students.

I told her who I was, and she looked at me like she was appraising me. Apparently she didn't approve, so she averted her eyes as she shoved a map, a schedule, and a student handbook through the slot in the window.

"Will that be all?" she trilled in an unpleasant, nasally voice. Without waiting for an answer, she waved me off, getting up and walking away to answer the phone. NOW I wanted to spit on the secretary…

I stopped at my locker first, putting away my extra books and wringing out my coat. Then I looked at my schedule:

First Period- French/ Madame Kyse

Second Period-Health/ Mr. Dexton

Third Period-Chemistry/ Mr. Fischer

Fourth Period-Geometry/ Mrs. Jensen

Lunch

Fifth Period-English/ Mrs. Renske

Sixth Period- Choir/ Mrs. Schwimmer

Seventh Period-Phys Ed/ Ms. Arnold

It only took a few minutes to work out the map—the high school building was considerably smaller than my elementary school in Phoenix. The other new freshmen had no problem, either—however, they had probably been in the building hundreds of times, for town meetings or school plays, or whatever small towns did for fun.

I got to my French class only a few seconds before the bell rang, and my teacher, a tiny old woman with a strict bun in her hair, told me to introduce myself to the class in French. I blushed, stuttered, and tripped to my seat. The rest of the class was spent deflecting curious stares and trying to learn how to melt.

***

The first half of the day, I was getting the lay of the land. Not so much literally—it was quite easy to find my way around. But socially, I was a bit lost. The girls at the school seemed to behave in one of two ways toward me—either disdainfully, casting disparaging looks at my makeup and clothes; or curious, trying to start conversations or dig dirt on the only new girl- intrigued by the novelty. Nobody seemed genuinely nice.

The guys at school either looked at me like I was an alien, or tried to be… let's just say, overly-friendly. I got quite a few Doug-like creepy looks, and when I was walking to lunch, somebody grabbed my ass.

I whipped my head around to cuss out the culprit, but everybody had diligently averted their eyes, muffling their giggles behind their hands. I flushed scarlet, and resumed a faster pace, making my way into the cafeteria.

That's the first time I saw him.

**Sorry bout the cliffie! =] Jazzy will be in the next chapter!! *Squee***


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing I noticed when I entered the cafeteria was the staggeringly small school population. The entire high school was _maybe _100 people, tops. I feared that I would eventually know every single students' first name, last name, and home phone number. It was much too small-town-ey for me.

The _second _thing I noticed was an extremely attractive blonde boy sitting at a table by himself. I stared at him for a second, realizing that he wasn't 'attractive', so much as 'perfect'. He was tall-- I could tell, even when he was sitting down, that he was easily 6'2''. He had a nice body, strong but not bulky. I was drawn to him, possibly because he was the only person in this school besides me who was wearing converse and skinny jeans.

He had clear, smooth skin, and he was barely tanner than a corpse. The only color came from the dark, bruise-like marks under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week, or maybe he had a stepfather like Doug. His eyes were dark-- I guessed they must be as pretty as the rest of him, but I was too far away to be able to tell for sure.

I was transfixed by his hair-- I have always been a sucker for good hair. He had pin-straight honey-blonde hair that sparkled with natural highlights, even out of the sun. It fell in front of his face, with his bangs covering one eye. It was classic 'emo', but it looked more… original on him. Like he was what everybody else was _trying _to achieve, but couldn't quite stack up to.

All-around, he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in Cordova, Phoenix or anywhere else.

"Hey, new kid. Let's keep it moving. Some of us actually _eat_ lunch," said a blonde girl who was at least six inches taller than me. I blushed, realizing that I had been hovering in the doorway gawking for at least a minute. Thankfully, the subject of my attention hadn't caught me… mid-gawk.

The blonde girl-- her name was… Ericka. I recognized her from my chemistry class. She was a year or two older than me-- stalked into the cafeteria, followed by her sniggering posse. I assumed they weren't going to invite me to eat with them.

I scanned the room, looking for an empty table to sit at. Just as I spotted one, a quiet boy from my health class spotted _me, _waving me over to his table, where he sat with two friendly-looking girls. I tensed for a second, but they seemed… genuine. I grabbed a chair next to a pretty brunette, who introduced herself as Jenna. The other girl, a redhead names Gretchen, was louder than the other two, but otherwise seemed nice enough.

The boy, Marshall, started a conversation about our new classes. Gretchen jumped right in, chattering away happily. I didn't say anything, just kept sneaking glances over toward the boy I saw earlier. Jenna noticed my stare and raise an eyebrow jokingly at me.

"Enjoying the view?" She whispered so the other two wouldn't notice.

"You know, I really am. The ocean and the mountains, they have nothing on him," I smirked.

"His name's Jasper Whitlock."

"He's… quite attractive," I said lamely. Jenna giggled at my atrocious understatement.

"Yes, he is," she agreed, "but nobody's had much luck with him. And believe me, people have tried. That girl Ericka, did you meet her? She's asked him out at least seven times. He's always said no, but I heard he was very polite about it…" She seemed to enjoy the conversation, losing a bit of her shyness. It was probably nice to have a new kid-- everybody else would already know all the good gossip.

"Anyway," she continued, "He's a bit of a mystery. He lives out of town, back near the woods, apparently, with his adoptive father. He just moved up here when he was a freshman. He's a junior now, but he should be a senior. He had to miss a year of school when he helped his dad with fishing."

"Oh," I said dumbly. I didn't know what to say after hearing this boy's story, and I was a little flustered when I saw Jasper look amusedly at our table a few times during Jenna's speech, as if he knew what we were saying. I quickly grabbed my backpack, rifling through it, pretending to be doing something important.

Gretchen giggled, "why is Jasper _Whitlock _staring at you?" I blushed four shades of scarlet, and shrugged, pulling out my iPod.

"He's not," I replied. It was true-- Jasper had pulled out a sketchbook and started drawing something. He didn't look at me again for the rest of lunch. I turned my music up full-blast and blared the song "Tear You Apart" so loud that I was cringing on the way to English.

I knew I was going to like Mrs. Renske-- she sent me to my table, in the back corner of the room, without making me introduce myself or speak at all. She sat me next to an empty seat. The two of us- me and Mrs. Renske- were going to get on very well.

My calm was shattered when Jasper Whitlock strode gracefully into the room, and was told to sit next to me. He half-smiled, but halfway to the desk, he tensed a bit, and dropped into his seat, tilting it as far from me as possible. I wished the floor would swallow me whole-- I finally see somebody really _interesting _in this town, and he acts like I'm a pariah. I blushed-- again-- and turned my iPod back on. Blue October can get me through this.

Class ended eventually, of course, and Jasper bolted. I groaned, packing my bag up slowly, and left class in a daze. The rest of the day passed quickly but dully, without even the excitement of humiliating myself In gym. I ran home, since it was still pouring rain, but it didn't get me there any faster. I just tripped more.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Jasper was out of school all week. I figured it couldn't have been because of English-- I didn't know the guy, I couldn't have affected him that much. But he looked so angry when he had to sit by me.

After the first week, he came back, but didn't look at me, didn't speak to me, even in English class when he was sitting next to me, he refused to acknowledge my existence. It stung a little, but I didn't know why. I had never spoken to him. I shouldn't care what he thought. But I did.

All month, I endured Doug yelling at me, hitting me, calling me a worthless bitch. I let him-- I encouraged it. Because every hit that landed on me was a hit that missed Renee. She never found out-- she had convinced herself that he accidentally slipped, and it was a one-time thing. It wasn't a one-time thing. At first, it hurt a lot. I fell asleep crying, I woke up stiff and bruised. But after a few days, I was able to tune out the pain. I walked in the house, I started cooking dinner, and I got smacked across the face. I did my homework, I got punched in the gut, and I went to sleep. It became routine. I stopped noticing when it hurt. I stopped being scared. I figured this was as bad as it was going to get. Until the Friday night Poker Game.

Every Friday night, Doug had four or five guys from work come over for a poker game. At the end, if he lost, I got a black eye. He always lost. This week, he won the game and the $200 or so that was in the pot. He had drunk more than usual, and was in the mood to celebrate. My mom was at a friend's house that night.

Doug came staggering up behind me in the kitchen as I started washing dishes. He was always a little less violent when I was doing 'women's work'. I braced myself for a punch or a slap, but I was not prepared for him to grab me by the shoulders and throw me to the floor.

I screamed and threw the plate I was holding, shattering it against the wall and sending scalding, sudsy water everywhere. He slapped me across the face and kneeled on the floor so that he was pinning me down, putting most of his weight on my legs. It hurt like hell, and I shrieked as I tried to push him off of me. He was so much bigger than me, I didn't accomplish anything. I just pissed him off more. He clamped a hand over my mouth, kneeing me in the stomach and knocking the wind out of me.

"Shut up, you stupid bitch, and maybe I'll be nice," he slurred, leering at my drunkenly. I bit his hand and he hit me as hard as he could, his fist connecting with my jaw, whipping my head back. I could feel something warm running down my cheek-- maybe I was crying, maybe it was blood.

He unzipped my jeans, one hand on my pants, the other pinning my wrists above my head. He yanked them off as quickly as possible, taking my panties in the same movement, leaving them around my ankles to restrict my movement as I thrashed.

Every time I screamed, he jerked the hand holding my wrists, pulling my top half off the ground. Them he slammed it back as hard as possible, banging my head onto the cold tile floor. Every time it happened, I got a little more dazed, and just as I was welcoming the fuzzy blackness of unconsciousness, I jerked awake, felt a searing pain from my crotch. In my haze, I didn't notice Doug remove his own pants and boxers, or position himself sloppily at my entrance. He aimed poorly, but not enough to miss, just enough to tear me a little and hurt me a hell of a lot. He drove into me roughly, not caring that I was a virgin, and pounded through my barrier, smirking cruelly at my obvious pain. He didn't give me a second to recover before thrusting, hard, in and out, endlessly. The rest was a blur of moans and alcohol fumes and burning-hot breath on my neck. And Pain. So much pain. It was like being cut open-- it didn't feel good or natural like people said sex should. It just felt like rape; dirty, violent, excruciating, burning.

I heard Doug's loud groan as he came inside me, and I felt him pull out, pull on his jeans, and walk away. The front door slammed. His truck revved. He was gone. And I was lying on the kitchen floor, stretched, torn, contaminated, and broken.

***

I think I laid on that kitchen floor for over an hour, with my pants still around my ankles, not making a move to stop the bleeding from my head. Just staring at the wood-paneled walls and watching the room get dark. I finally pulled my jeans up, wiped up the spots of blood and semen that dripped onto the floor, and made to clean up the shards of plate on the floor. I fumbled, cutting my fingers open, and hissed quietly. After the kitchen looked… better… I tried to climb the stairs.

It was… challenging, trying to get up the stairs. I leaned heavily on the railing for support, since my legs were in no state to hold me. My crotch ached and throbbed, and I knew I had large bruises forming on my thighs and waist, where Doug dug his fingers harshly into tender skin.

I staggered into the bathroom and dropped to the floor, locking the door. That way, at least if Doug came back I would have some sort of protection, and if Renee showed up, she wouldn't have to know there was any problem.

I turned the shower on, as hot as it would go, letting it warm up. Stripping my clothes off slowly, I examined my entire body-- every bruise, every scrape, every welt. I had blood running from between my legs, and blood running from a cut on my cheek, and blood running from numerous scrapes and scratched. I had a black eye, and handprint marks on my hips. There were large purple bruises blooming on my inner thighs. I would not be able to cover this with makeup tricks.

Getting in the shower, I laid down in the tub, letting hot water rain on me and wash away as much filth as possible. The pressure of the water pounded too hard against my skin, but eventually, I relaxed into it, allowing the hot water to take some of the tension from my back, neck and legs. The water going down the drain ran red for a few minutes, diluting gradually until it was completely clear. I washed my body with some gentle soap, but I figured shampooing would be a bad idea, in case it irritated any of my wounds.

Getting out of the shower, I shivered from the cold and the trauma. I had to get off my feet-- I was so sore, it was surprising I had been able to stay on my feet for so long. I walked a few steps to my room, pulled on a huge T-shirt that I nicked from my dad a few years ago, and crawled onto my bad, shimmying under the covers. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt a tear tickle the end of my nose. Laying in bed in the dark, I could feel my pulse in all my bruises. I cried myself to sleep.

***

I had stayed in bed all weekend and missed two days of school. Renee hadn't had to take care of me since I was five, and no longer had any idea what to do. She mainly stayed away from me, which was fine by me. I had no desire to eat, and every time she came to check on me, I pretended to be asleep, burying my face in my pillow so she wouldn't see my scratches.

By Wednesday, the bruises had faded considerably, and a lot of my soreness was gone. The worst wounds were the mental and emotional ones. Luckily, I awoke with the beginnings of my period, so at least I wasn't pregnant. I figured that it was time to go back to school, and staying home any longer would only attract unwanted attention.

I put on a Ramones sweatshirt and a looser pair of jeans; nothing that would show or irritate any bruises. I put on my customary eyeliner and left for school. Renee offered me a ride, thank God, because it would have been a bad day to keep falling on my ass.

"Honey, are you sure you're okay? You could take one more day at home, if it would help," Renee hedged. I think she honestly knew that I wasn't sick, but she pretended I was, because it's easier to deal with.

"No, mom, but thanks. It's time to go back to school-- I've already probably missed a lot of work." It was a lame excuse, but she accepted it, feigning unawareness. I never have been a good liar.

The morning passed by in a blur, with me zoning out every few minutes, flashing back to Friday, only keeping enough awareness to know when my name was called and give some half-assed answer to whatever question was asked. Or whatever question I thought was asked.

I was brought back to reality on the way to lunch, when I walked straight into what felt like a cold rock. The rock did not yield, and I got knocked backwards, falling on my ass. I yelped in pain, but accepted the freezing hand extended towards me. It was cold and hard, and I was struck by the thought that this is probably what it feels like to hold hands with a statue. I looked up to meet the eyes of a very surprised and apologetic Jasper Whitlock.

I gaped at him a little-- he was even more perfect up close, and I was right about the beautiful eyes, but wrong about the color. I had always avoided looking closely at his face, but now I noticed that his eyes were the lightest shade of butterscotch. He shifted uncomfortably, and I blushed, dropping his hand. I winced, once again aware of my injuries.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry; I had no idea you were going to walk into me…" He apologized. His voice was smooth and rich like honey, and I was momentarily stupefied.

"No, it wasn't you, it's… not important. I'm fine," I mentally kicked myself for almost telling him I was _already_ hurt. I had never spoken to him, he always ignored me in class, I shouldn't tell him anything, but I felt almost compelled to.

He looked at my face carefully, like he had never seen me before, and slowly said, "Would you like to sit with me today, for lunch? As an apology for my rudeness in English, and for injuring you just now. My name's Jasper Whitlock, by the way. I've never formally introduced myself."

"Bella Swan," I said nervously. I wondered what in the world could have changed his opinion of me, and made him decide to talk to me. I was fascinated by Jasper, but hesitant to spend much time with men I didn't know. He seemed to feel my hesitation, because he quickly added, "It's completely up to you. I understand if you would rather not-- you have no reason to. I didn't treat you very well in class."

He turned to walk away. "Wait," I cried. He turned, surprised but with a cute half-smile.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"Apology accepted. I would love to sit with you." I don't know why I was so curious about this boy, but I knew I wanted to sit with him. Being around him was making me calmer, I was feeling less pain, and for once, I was able to shove aside my flashbacks and pretend Friday was a bad dream. I didn't want to lose that feeling yet.

Jasper smiled again, like I had just done him a favor by agreeing to sit with him. He led me to his table, under close observation from the rest of the school, and I set down my backpack. He followed my through the lunch line-- I grabbed a roll and an apple, he grabbed the tray a lunch lady handed him. It had a portion of everything, with an extra dessert. The lunch lady winked, and Jasper coughed uncomfortably. He handed over $5.00, which covered both our meals. I was about to object, when Jasper said, "Please, let me cover this," in a tone that left no room for argument. I accepted as gracefully as possible.

Back at his-- our-- table, I could definitely feel all the stares on my back. Jasper didn't seem to notice, but he probably got stared at all the time. Looking around, I saw that most people were surprised- even shocked,- but quite a few girls were distinctly jealous. I saw Ericka shooting me murderous looks, and I smirked, waving sweetly at her. She looked furious. Suddenly feeling very serious, I turned to face Jasper.

He leaned across the table at me.

"So…" He began.

**If five people leave comments, I will post again within three days. Yes, I have resorted to bribery. **

**Do you guys want a chapter in Jasper's point of view? Let me know!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: AAAH! Guys, I'm soo sorry! Please forgive me! I know I promised you three days, but there was an 'accident' involving my (now ex) boyfriend and my BRAND NEW laptop, so I was without a computer for a few days. Here it is, hope it doesn't suck. The reviews are keepin me goin', so share the love!!**

**Kelly**

Chapter 5

Jasper's Point of View

"Mrs. Renske gave me a heads-up; there's going to be a report and speech assigned today, and we need to work with partners. The topic's a 'surprise'. What do you say?" I said in my most calming voice, so as not to intimidate her. It probably wasn't a smart idea to tempt fate by being in such close proximity to a human, but this girl had such troublesome emotions, and I could plainly see the bruises under her makeup. For some reason, I felt protective. I wanted to destroy whatever was hurting her. And any hour we were together studying was an hour where I could ensure her safety.

Ensure her safety. What a joke. The most likely scenario was that I would kill her myself. I winced at the thought. Aside from my 'vegetarian' diet, I didn't want this girl, this Bella Swan, to die. It was curious, because I'd never thought of a human as anything other than a meal or a test of my willpower. Being around her actually benefited me.

As a vampire, I retained the charisma I was known for in my human life. It translated to empathy, the 'gift' of being able to feel and manipulate others' emotions. For over a century, I've been subject to the aggravation and pain of experiencing all the emotions around me. Everybody who was depressed, every person grieving, every girl with PMS. I felt it all, 24/7. I was never at peace.

This girl-- Bella-- being around her calmed the turmoil inside me. I was able to block out others' emotions at will, and finally feel what I actually _felt. _I didn't want to lose that so soon.

"Sure," she replied calmly. I could have seen past the front even without my gift. On the inside, she was nervous, (she should be. I was about six inches from killing her.) depressed, (I was going to find out _why_) and… embarrassed? Resigned? Intrigued? A thousand inexplicable, fleeting feelings crossed her face, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared, and leaving no explanation as to their cause.

"Great. So, we should probably meet after school, right? To study?" It would be mutually beneficial, I told myself. I could watch her, keep her safe, and also enjoy the benefit of being free from feelings other than my own. She agreed to meet me after school, and I would drive us to the library. We spent the rest of lunch chatting lightly, and I wasn't surprised to learn that we had similar tastes in music. We also had similar opinions about the students at this school.

"I thought small towns were supposed to be… cordial. Welcoming. These people look at me like I'm some kind of freak; they're either flat-out rude, or overly-curious. It's like… living in a spot light." She mused.

I marveled at how mature she was for her age; she hid her nervousness and slight discomfort, and was able to hold an intelligent conversation without that insufferable _giggling _that most teenage girls seem to enjoy so much.

Plus, I happened to agree with what she was saying. "Mhm. I get those looks, too. It sucks. And it's not gonna change, sorry." It started out sympathetic, but by the end, I couldn't help but laugh a little, which made Bella smile. I was glad-- that was one of the first real smiles I'd ever seen out of her.

"would you like to play questions?" she offered. I tensed a little, cautious. I couldn't answer very many questions honestly. I could always lie if a… difficult question came up, but for some reason, I didn't want to. I wanted to be honest with Bella, as much as possible.

"What are the rules?" I asked suspiciously. She laughed.

"It's nothing _too _complicated. We take turns asking each other questions. They start out basic-- favorite color, favorite band-- and get more personal until one person gets asked a question they won't answer. The first person to pass loses. Do you think you can handle it?" she challenged.

I quickly weighed my options. I was undeniably curious about this human child. I wanted to know how she got her bruises. I could afford to pay for that knowledge by telling her my favorite _color. _And I could end the game whenever I wanted to-- it's not like she could _force _me to tell her anything.

"Sure. Why not? Ladies first?" I smirked.

"Hmm…" she pondered for a minute, smiling evilly to herself. I have to admit-- I was a little nervous. "What's the stupidest thing you've ever done to impress a girl?" I laughed, then stopped to consider. I can't remember the last girl I tried to impress.

"Uh… nothing. I've never really had to try to impress anybody."

"Figures," she mumbled to herself.

I knew what she meant-- I was well-aware that I was good-looking. All vampires were. It was just one of our many excess abilities to attract prey. Overkill, if you ask me.

"What is the most annoying thing somebody could do to you?" was my first question for Bella. I was going to ease into this.

She answered immediately. "Gaah. Definitely patronize me or try to tell me what to do. I hate when people don't let me think for myself." After a second of thought, she added, "I don't like being tickled too much, either. If you could live with any family from a television series, who would it be?"

"The Addams," I shot off without thinking. It was such an odd question, but it was like the answer was always ready in my mind. "What's your least favorite word?"

She was grinning, and I'm pretty sure I was, too. This was a good game, so far. I'd never thought about most of these questions so far. "Nuclear. For two reasons-- it never refers to anything positive, AND everybody pronounces it wrong. It's nu-CLEAR, not Nu-cu-lur. What's the habit you're proudest of breaking?"

_Drinking human blood. _I scanned my brain for a normal, human habit. "Biting my nails." There. It was simple, and normal. "Describe something that's happened to you for which you have no explanation." I saw Bella flinch a little, her smile faltering. I wished I had asked a different question. Then she recovered, "One spring, when I was in, probably, fourth grade, I opened up a pocket of my backpack that I never used, and there was grass growing. Inside my backpack. I have no idea where it came from, or how it survived." I laughed at the mental image of a little Bella mowing her backpack. "If you could have a super power, what would it be?" was her question for me.

I tried to think of one I didn't already have. "telekinesis. You?"

"Invisibility," she said sadly. I wished I could hear the thoughts behind her answers. "Have you ever taken a picture in one of those little booths?" I laughed at the randomness.

"No, I have not."

"Me either. We'll have to do that sometime, huh?" she said before hopping up. I was startled by the sudden movement, but jumped up myself a second later, when I realized that we were the last ones left in the cafeteria. I slipped in one more question as we walked into English a minute late, "what three objects do you care about most?"

"iPod, eyeliner, Jane Austen collection," she hissed, blushing at the jealous and curious looks we were attracting. Slipping into my seat, I sent her a wave of calm and ease. She was very uncomfortable being the center of attention.

***

Bella's Point of View

When Mrs. Renske told the class to sit next to a partner, I breathed a sigh of relief that I already had Jasper. I saw Mitchell eyeing me hopefully-- it was no secret that he liked me-- and I didn't know how to let the kid down easy. Working with him on a big project would probably just get his hopes up. This way, I could bypass the whole situation.

The teacher discussed our topic-- how myths and legends affect our culture-- and assigned different subtopics to each group. One group got leprechauns, Mitchell and his partner got mermaids. Jasper and I got vampires. Sweet. But for some reason, Jasper looked unhappy. I glanced at him, but he didn't meet my eye. I hoped we were still going to the library-- it was a great reason to not be at home.

***

After school, I stood at the front entrance waiting for Jasper to show up. He hadn't said a word for the rest of class, and I hadn't seen him since then. I hoped it wasn't all a joke-- to trick the new girl, the freshman, into thinking she finally had a friend at her stupid school. Shifting my feet self-consciously, I had almost made up my mind to go home when I saw a kick-asscar-- the _only _nice car in Cordova, that wasn't eroded by the weather. It was probably the only car that I could identify offhand; a shiny, cherry-red Impala. Cars held little interest to me, and I knew next-to-nothing about them, but I immediately fell in love with that one.

It was no surprise that the car stopped right in front of me. Of course, Jasper Whitlock would have a car like that. He got out, and walked around the car, opening my door for me. Stepping in, my relief at not being ditched was fighting for dominance with my envy of his car. Jasper was back in the driver's seat before I had time to buckle my seat belt. He gave a determined smile and rolled down his window, even though it was freezing outside. He drove the car the five or six blocks to the library and parked, getting out and moving to open my door for me. "What year is your car?" I inquired.

"Is that really how you want to use one of your questions?" Jasper asked, laughing. "She's a '64 impala convertible."

"She?" I arched an eyebrow.

"Her name's Lydia," he said in mock-seriousness, as if I had offended the car. I grinned; this was a better afternoon than I ever expected. I went cold as I thought about what I _had _expected. Jasper frowned, noticing my change of attitude.

"Are you alright, Bella?" He asked me with worry. I never had anybody worry about me-- I didn't really _have _anybody in the first place. Ever since… Doug, Renee and I had been getting gradually more distant, except when she needed a shoulder to cry on. She certainly didn't _worry _about me; she had too much to think about, taking care of herself. I felt my eyes well up, and angrily wiped away a stray tear. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

The library was, naturally, very small. It was unlikely that there would be a book about vampires, aside from a rare Anne Rice novel. Jasper opted to bypass the shelves altogether, heading to a cluster or computers in the back of the building. I did a quick scan of the nonfiction section, just in case. Surprisingly, in the second-to-last shelf, hidden out of sight on the bottom row in between "_Understanding the Water Cycle" _and a battered copy of _"He's Just Not That Into You", _was an old leather-bound tome with the simple title, "_Monsters and Myths". _I sat down and paged through the book.

The index was separated, first by 'good' or 'evil', then by species and subspecies, alphabetically. While most entries for 'Vampire' were under 'evil', I was more interested in the one vampire characterized as being 'good'. Flipping to page 672, I read, "_**Stregoni Benefici: **__An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires. This rare species is characterized by inhuman speed and strength, extreme beauty, cold, pale skin, and the ability to maintain some control over his thirst." _

'_I bet Jasper looks a lot like a Stregoni Benefici.' _I blushed, embarrassed that Jasper had been in the forefront of my mind, not just now but all day. I looked up; I hadn't heard his footsteps, but Jasper was suddenly standing directly in front of me, staring grimly at the book in my hands. ' _Is he usually this… terse?' _I wondered.

"Look!" I said brightly, showing him the book. "We need to put this in the report! I love the idea of 'good' vampires."

"There's no such thing as a good vampire, Bella," he said seriously. I shook my head at this, gesturing to the book. He led me to his computer, recovering his light mood, and showed me a few articles he'd found, about an old legend of a vampire that took the form of a hag by day, and turned into a crow by night, feeding on the blood of cattle. He also had information on the famous Incubus and Succubus. They were a male or female, respectively, that would lay with sleeping people in order to have sex with them.

"We should incorporate the original stories, too," he explained.

"As long as we also include the modern views about vampires."

"What are _your _views about the 'modern vampire'?" Jasper questioned, arching an eyebrow. I remembered thinking about how Jasper might resemble a Stregoni Benefici, and blushed. "My opinion isn't important," I mumbled. "This is about fact."

Jasper looked intrigued. "Well, then it's your next Question," he insisted.

"Hmm…" I internally debated how much I should tell him. "Well, I guess to me, vampires are dark and mysterious and sexy."

"Sexy? They drink your blood and kill you," he looked incredulous, irritated, and a little disgusted.

"Exactly," I said quietly. "I don't know how to explain what I mean. I hate the smell of blood, and… abhor violence. But the vampire from that book, the Stregoni Benefici… Underneath the mystery, he's the good guy, torturing himself to battle his instincts. The tragic hero. The underdog in a never-ending battle of good and evil, both internal and external. And I'm a sucker for an underdog."

***

We were at the library well past 6:00. Jasper kept searching for the most outrageous or unrealistic stories he could find. He read lines about vampires that fed off of sexual energy and exhausted their victims to death. When he laughed at the more ridiculous myths, it seemed like there was more to the joke. Something deeper that I was missing.

In the winter, night falls much earlier, and by the time Jasper pulled up in front of Doug's house, the sky was black as pitch. He came around to open my door, then took my arm, leading me carefully to the front door so as I didn't slip on a stray patch of ice. I smiled gratefully and wished him a good night, thanking him for the ride.

Doug was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. "Where the hell have you been, you goddamn whore?!" he shouted drunkenly. I instinctively cringed back from the sharp tone and strong smell of whiskey, but that just made him angrier. He grabbed my shoulder, pinching much too tight, and yanked me toward him, then pushed me roughly to my knees. He unzipped his pants and grabbed my hair, forcing me towards him. Forcing me to take him in my mouth. When I silently refused, he yanked my head back and slapped me roughly across the face. My cheek was smarting, and my eyes stung with tears I refused to shed; I admitted that it would be easier to just give up.

I opened to him, and he thrust himself all the way into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and making me gag. Doug groaned in some sick pleasure and tugged on my hair, forcible guiding my head to meet his thrusts. He came loudly, yanking my hair extra-hard, shooting cum down my throat. It was bitter and salty and made me cough. Doug pushed me back from him and strode past me, right out the door.

I didn't cry as I made my way to the kitchen, taking a swig of the bottle on the counter. There were no tears as I swished the whiskey around in my mouth, attempting to kill germs, or as I spat it into the sink. I was emotionless as I brushed my teeth, completely stoic in the shower. But as I slipped under my covers and snuggled deep into my bed, I let the hot, salty tears fall down my cheek and soak my pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

3rd person point-of-view

As Jasper brought Bella home, he felt her emotions slip from ease and comfort to tension and fear. He did his best to send soothing emotions towards her, but could only do so much, since he was worried, himself. Not to mention, morbidly curious as to the cause of her distress, and more than a little angry at whoever was causing it. Anger and lust rolled from the house in waves that made Jasper feel like a weak human getting swept away by the tide. He walked Bella all the way to her front door, hoping she would invite him inside. He didn't like the emotional situation from inside the house.

"Today was great, Jasper," Bella said with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you for the ride… Ride_s_."

"No trouble at all," Jasper stalled, returning the smile and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Well… 'Night, then," she slipped inside, shutting the door. He sighed, moving at vampire speed back to his car, driving out-of-sight of her house. Jasper parked smoothly in a deserted driveway, running back to her house. He jumped to an overhang where he could listen, but not see or be seen. As much as he wanted to make sure she was safe, and as much as he distrusted the situation, the girl _did _deserve her privacy. He would only stay as long as he was needed- long enough to ensure that Bella was alright.

The anger and lust was even more concentrated, only now, it was met with hatred and disgust. Jasper seethed as he heard Bella whimper, followed by the sound of a zipped un-zipping. '_It wouldn't be helpful to break into that house and tear that man apart.'_

He heard the distinct crack of a slap, and felt Bella's spike of pain. '_Not yet, anyway. Think of Bella. You can't scare her.'_

There were vague, (yet completely obvious) moist sounds coming from the house, punctuated by moans and grunts, none of which were Bella's. There was a burst of release and content, met with an equally-strong feeling of disgust. '_Who would she have to turn to if she thought you were a vicious killer. Or, if she KNEW you were a vicious killer, more like.'_

There was a small gagging sound, followed by the rustle of clothing being returned to its proper places. Then a door opened and slammed, and out stomped a short, thickset man in greasy bluejeans. His hair was dark, his eyes were soulless, and he sported a smug smirk that very nearly undid all of Jasper's nonviolent logic. A deep, angry snarl ripped from Jasper's throat, and Doug whirled in terror, looking for the wild animal he thought caused the sound. He jumped into his car at record speed, speeding off and swerving wildly, nearly wrapping himself around a tree.

Jasper hated that man. More than he had ever hated anything- and there was a lot to hate in his life. He wanted to follow him wherever he was going, then corner him in an alley. He wanted to hear the man beg for mercy, Jasper wanted to laugh- cackle, actually- while denying aforementioned mercy. He wanted to go for the jugular, but not drink. Jasper did NOT want blood like that running through his veins. No, not to drink. To inject venom-- painful, searing venom, the exact opposite of mercy. He would wait long enough that the horrible man would burn sufficiently- a day or two, but not long enough to turn him into a vampire. Then Jasper would finish the job and dispose of the body, never inflict that man on society ever again.

Fantasizing about what he _wanted _to do was enough to keep him doing what he _needed _to do-- stay with Bella, help her cope, and allow her to get some rest, if possible. Jasper numbed her shock and depression as she got ready for bed, then, once she was settled in, he let her own emotions trickle out, gradually building waves of lethargy and peace until she was sound asleep. He stayed on her roof all night, making sure her dreams were as pleasant as possible.

***

Bella's Point of View:

I was learning to compartmentalize. I allowed myself a grief period, but refused to dwell. Even subconsciously, I was getting stronger. I wasn't having nightmares about Doug, but rather, dreams about Jasper.

I was wearing an exotic-looking floor-length dress; it was red^like^wine, and fit in well with my surroundings. I was in an |old-fashioned gypsy fortune teller's trailer|, but I knew that it was supposed to be my bedroom. Doug was there, and I instinctively backed against the wall. Suddenly, Jasper burst into the room, looking murderously angry *dangerously beautiful*. His rage was palpable. {A separate energy}. ~~Practically its own person.~~ He seemed like he was about eight feet tall, and his skin was giving off its own \\silvery light//. His eyes were dangerous, a deep burgundy color. [The same color as my dress.] He SnArLeD, but I couldn't hear it… Jasper had Doug by the throat, and Doug exploded into a thousand shards of glass. I didn't quite see how it happened, I was distracted by the \\silvery light//. It had begun to separate into two parts; one part was Jasper's (aura), the other part wafted around the room, circling a crystal ball I hadn't seen previously.

I ran to my savior, and he swept me up into a protective hug, and we were enclosed in an invisible, intangible, {but very real} bubble. Like a pocket of protection had [enclosed] us. Or maybe it just enclosed [me]. Maybe Jasper _was _the protection. All I knew for sure was that I was safe, even when I should be feeling scared and confused.

Once Jasper set me on my feet, I pulled him to the globe of glittering light, and looked deeply, curiously, into the crystal ball. There was a wisp~of~smoke inside it that looked like a shattered piece of cloud, or a liquid diamond. We leaned closer, as if our very existence lay with that ~wisp~. And the room spun. Suddenly, yet somehow expectedly, we were falling into the orb. Into the future. Landed like actors, dropped into the middle of the scene. Jasper was the only one who knew the lines. I never even saw a script.

He bent his head to my throat and put his cool lips to my pulse point, smiling against my skin. He whispered one word before he kissed my neck.

He said it gently,seductively,tentatively?

_"Vampire."_

**And scene. **

**Ok guys, let me know-- do you prefer quick updates with short chapters, or slow updates and long chapters?**


	7. Chapter 7

**People!! Dear, dear readers! When was the last time I told you I adore you?! All your lovely reviews made me want to update faster, just 'cuz you guys deserve good things (Wow. That sounds a bit presumptuous, huh?). **

**But secretly, every time I get a review, I am absolutely terrified. Bad reviews make me write better, but they also break my spirit a little. I literally read all my e-mails with my fingers crossed! **

**So how 'bout this?-- the first person to send me (polite) (constructive) criticism and their first name will get a character named after them.**

**Also, I need to explain something. For anyone who was confused last chapter, the weird part was Bella's dream, and all the "pictures", i.e. ~~ \\ *, were my visual representation of what she was thinking. It was because dreams are always a little fucked-up. **

Bella's Point-of-View:

I was thrust suddenly from my dream, and had to take a minute to recuperate, gasping harshly for breath. I felt like I had been drifting at sea all night, tossed about by the waves, and just now washed up on shore. Yet surprisingly, I wasn't at all tired. My near-constant stress headache had ebbed to a dull throb, which was a definite improvement.

The small room was pitch-black, so I curiously peered at my clock. 3:00 in the morning. My early rise was understandable-- I had fallen asleep before 8:00, I'm sure.

I felt a blush creep across my cheeks due to my ridiculous dream. Jasper was years older than me, and our leagues weren't even in the same _zip codes. _Yet here I was, dreaming about him like a little girl with a crush. Absurdly, the 'vampire' portion of the dream seemed like the more realistic option, in comparison to him kissing me. I mean, he _did _fit with the book's description of a Stregoni Benefici… If I were to somehow _test _him-- his speed, or strength-- then… Wait. This is ridiculous. I find ONE nice, funny, interesting [gorgeous] person [person-vampire-guy-thing] and I immediately try to sabotage the friendship with conspiracy theories?!

He couldn't be a vampire. Right? Maybe a test or two wouldn't be the worst idea in the world… I was overcome with a sudden, powerful feeling of exhaustion. My head felt like it was made of lead, and I obligingly fell back into my very welcoming pillow.

***

I looked good. Calm, healthy, like a girl who was in completely in control of her life. I was wearing my favorite outfit-- protective armor that doubles as a security blanket. Black skinny jeans with a ruffle-y floral-print mini-dress over it. Not my usual style, but I saw it at a thrift store for two dollars, and it was distinctly Bella. It had an edge- it was a hippie dress with a rocker vibe. I had a military-style jacket with shiny brass buttons layered over it, and engineer boots. I loved the outfit because it was perfectly me-- It showed off the fact that I wasn't a stereotype, and made me feel strong when I wore it.

There was an unexplainable Zen in me this morning, and constructive energy. I was out of the house before Renee was even awake, and I stumbled out the door into a thick fog. Losing my footing on a patch of ice, I slid into a boulder.

Correction: I slid into a pair of legs. Baggy-jeans-and-chucks-wearing legs. Jasper's legs; cold, solid and granite-like. My full 100 pounds slammed into him, and he didn't even step back. He just gave me a forced-looking smile and offered me his hand, pulling me easily to my feet.

"I thought you might like a ride to school…?"

"That's so thoughtful, I would _love _to not fall on my ass twenty more times this morning." I said with a goofy grin-- these walks to school were treacherous; downright deadly when paired with my innate clumsiness. Jasper cracked a smile, but I could tell there was something on his mind.

He chivalrously handed me into the car, as usual, and got in the driver's seat without a word. The drive was silent for a full minute, and the stretch was getting awkward. I refused to be the one to break it, though. I didn't know what words would make him feel better. Jasper cleared his throat.

"Bella. If anything's… _wrong. _Personal problems, problems at school, or at _home," _he emphasized the word 'home', "just know I'm always here. If you need someone to talk to." He knew. He looked so earnest, staring deep into my eyes, and I could tell that he somehow picked up on the fact that I was having… troubles. It meant a lot that he said that, even if I wasn't able to take him up on his offer at this point. Freaking thoughtful snooping vampires.

I laid a hand on his forearm, ignoring when he flinched at the contact. His arm was just as cold and stony as in my dream. "Thank you, Jasper," I murmured, surprising myself when I felt a tear tickle my cheek. "I might take you up on that sometime." He parked smoothly and walked around the car, opening my door for me. As sweet as it was, all the courtesy made me feel a little uncomfortable.

As we walked across the parking lot, the ice caused me to grab Jasper's arm. I leaned on him a little for support, but he didn't seem to mind. It got me safely to the front door, and once we stepped through the first door, I was lulled into a false sense of security. As soon as I let go of him, I slipped in the giant lake of melted snow. My feet flew, and I braced myself for impact.

Immediately, stone arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me easily to my feet, lifting me momentarily off of the ground. I gaped at Jasper's strength and amazing reaction time. He let go of me quickly and muttered, "see you at lunch?" I nodded dumbly and stared as he walked away. Maybe a test or two _would_ be in order…


	8. Chapter 8

Hi.

I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in forever, but just know that I have been really stressed lately, and I am trying my hardest to scrape together a chapter. I have NOT, I repeat NOT, abandoned the project.

KELLY


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